


XVII

by indaco



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Idk man it's been a lifetime and a half since this shit went down, Writing Prompt, introspective, poetic prose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-13
Updated: 2019-09-13
Packaged: 2020-10-18 01:50:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20631116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indaco/pseuds/indaco
Summary: Written for the prompt: "Things you said that I wish you hadn't."





	XVII

“How long are you going to stay with me?”

Call it whatever you’d like. A gimmick. Their personal call and response. An inside joke. A role call for two. A declaration.

A promise.

Rose wastes no time: “Forever.”

She takes his hand, beaming up at him, toothy and lip-gloss slick. Despite the statement’s improbability, impossibility, she means it. 

The Doctor mirrors her expression, and they’re off. Bounding out of the TARDIS with 2% less hesitancy than they would’ve otherwise. Onto their next adventure.

It is a friendly reminder. A longer way of saying “hello.” It’s like calling someone midday for no reason at all. Popping your head into the living room to see what your roommate is watching on TV. Reading over your sister’s shoulder.

A small, fleeting, but overall welcome intimacy.

“How long are you going to stay with me?” The Doctor asks another time. They’re safe, he knows this consciously. They’re in the console room; they couldn’t be safer.

But his hands still tremble. His eyes still dart on and off the walls. He doesn’t want Rose out of his sight until he sorts himself out.

“Forever.” She replies, more solid. But her face is drawn up in residual concern.

His fingers twitch. Rose reaches over, blanketing his hand with her much steadier one, and her fingers curl around his.

It is a grounding ritual. A reminder of a small eternity. Thankfulness for the present. It’s like locking a door before going to bed. Like a mother asking if you’re buckled before pulling out of the driveway. Holding onto your companion’s hood as you navigate a crowded walkway. Or your friend handing you a tissue as you sob on their living room floor.

“How long are you going to be with me?” The Doctor whispers, embracing her for what he didn’t know would be one of the final times. He presses a lingering kiss to the crown of her head.

She giggles and hugs him back tighter, drawing herself closer, he feels her smile a wary smile against his shoulder, “Forever.”

It is a shorthand for “I love you.” Part of both of them knows it is. Another part of them refuses to admit it. The final part of them knows they can’t avoid it for much longer.

Which means all parts of The Doctor resent him for not being able to choke it out.

Because then, she disappears.

Forever.

…

“How long are you going to stay with me?” He rasps, the palm of his hand and forehead pressed to Rose’s door.

The question reverbs down the hall, past her bedroom, now empty.

The Doctor doesn’t receive a reply.

And maybe he wishes he never could have.

**Author's Note:**

> beta reading and big boy prose is for pussies


End file.
